You Have Loved Enough
by kippersvindaloo
Summary: House and Stacy's relationship the first time around, in good times and bad.
1. The Beginning part 1

AN: This is a flashback story, but just to be safe, I'll say there are some vague spoilers through series one as far as House and Stacy are concerned. Thanks again to everyone who's given me feedback; I appreciate the time and effort.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, and I'm not making any money from this, so please don't sue me.

You Have Loved Enough

The volleyball went up into the air, and the man took a few steps before bringing his hand to meet the ball in a graceful arc. Then the volleyball flew squarely into the net.

"Nice try," House said, straightening from his crouch. "Why don't you go back to pediatrics or whatever it is you do for a real job?"

"Hey," Wilson said, placing his hands on his hips, "I was a band geek in high school."

House passed the volleyball from one hand to another. Should he go for a no-frills serve or pummel Wilson with a jump? "That explains your strategy, which seems to consist of taking your shirt off and blinding the opposition with your pallor."

"Ooh…oh…" Wilson clutched his chest dramatically and fell on his back in the sand.

"Greg, are you hurting my husband?" Sara called. She and Stacy were watching the game from their nearby beach chairs. House let his gaze drift in that direction; he'd use any excuse he could find to look at Stacy in a swimsuit.

"Please," House said. "He's a big boy. He can handle it."

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound," Wilson said, voice muffled by his position on the sand.

House spun the volleyball on one finger. "Come on. Get up so I can beat you without cheating."

Wilson propped himself up on his elbows. "You know, you could at least try to be a gracious winner."

House pretended to consider it, then shook his head. "Nah."

"Greg," Stacy said, "turn this way so I can ogle you."

House looked at Stacy, then at Wilson. "Some people are so shallow."

"Right," Stacy said, "because you haven't been turning and stretching so you can stare at my ass."

Nice. House gave Stacy a withering look. "Not everything is about your ass, Stacy." He tossed the ball easily into the air and went sailing up after it; it was definitely time for a jump serve. The ball crashed into the sand, sending up a slight spray as it hit the ground at Wilson's feet.

"I give up," Wilson groaned. "Now can you please stop kicking my ass?"

"Not everything's about your ass either," House said wryly.

"Some of us would disagree," Sara said.

House rolled his eyes. "Some of us are certifiable."

"Hey!" Wilson said. "Insult me all you want, but leave Sara out of it."

"Haven't you gotten the memo?" Stacy asked. "He insults us because he cares."

"I care?" House said. "Let me see that memo. I don't think it's legitimate."

Sara stood, crossing to Wilson. "Well, I still love you, even if you are a band geek."

Wilson smiled, putting his arms around her. "Thank you. You hungry?"

Sara nodded, snuggling against him. "Mm-hmm."

Ye gods, public displays of affection. House fought the urge to clear his throat until Sara and Wilson stopped stroking each other. Wilson didn't seem to have any problems with it, but if Stacy had tried cuddling with House in front of Wilson, House suspected he'd be about as responsive as a cedar block. Love was love. You shouldn't have to prove it to spectators.

"We're gonna go get lunch," Wilson said. "See you guys later."

House waited until Wilson was turned away from him. "Hey, Wilson? Nice ass."

"Yeah, yeah," Wilson said, not bothering to face House.

Stacy swatted House with the novel she was reading. Grisham. Even on the beach she couldn't get away from the law. "Don't make comments like that in front of your girlfriend."

House hated the word "girlfriend", but he put up with it from Stacy. "If I can't play with Wilson's mind, life is meaningless."

"And what part of me would you like to play with?" Stacy asked, her voice growing husky.

House quirked an eyebrow. "If you haven't figured out by now, I'm not sure I can explain it to you."

Stacy leaned in so her face was inches away from House's. "Show me."


	2. The End part 1

House tried to wiggle his right foot, and the resulting pain in his leg was so severe that it brought him instantly to full consciousness. He managed not to cry out, but he did moan a little.

"Greg?" That was Stacy. "I'm here." Her face swam into his field of vision.

"Hi," House said. His leg shouldn't hurt this much. "Why did they wake me up early?"

"They didn't," Stacy said. "You're right on time."

House shook his head. "But it…" He tried to bend his leg, but it didn't respond the way it should have. He stared at it for a minute, frowning. It should hurt, yes, but he should be able to bend it. Unless—

"What did they do?" House asked.

"About what?" Stacy asked.

She was never this coy unless there was something to hide. Lawyer's defense. "Don't be cute. You know what I'm talking about. What did they do?"

"They took out the dead muscle," Stacy said.

Four days' worth of dead muscle. That must've been extensive. They'd taken a big chunk out of his leg. No wonder it didn't work. No wonder the damn thing hurt. Why couldn't they have listened to him? He might've gotten that muscle back, or maybe he could've rebuilt some muscle in the area and kept most of his mobility. Now he was in pain anyway, with the added bonus that his leg didn't work. Outstanding.

"Who decided to do that?" House asked, not sure he wanted to know. "Was it Cuddy? Did she…"

"I did," Stacy interrupted.

House stared at her. He'd heard wrong. Cuddy had done it because she had thought she was right and House was wrong; it fit. It made sense. Stacy must not have known what Cuddy was going to do, because if Stacy had known, she would've been able to stop it. Stacy knew what House wanted, and she would've told them… "What?"

"I waited until you were in a coma and then I exercised my legal rights as your health-care proxy and told them to do it," Stacy said.

And there she was, hiding behind the law again. It hadn't been what House wanted, but she would be damned if it wasn't legal. "Why would you do that?"

"The muscle was dead, Greg. You weren't getting it back," Stacy said.

"You don't know that," House said through gritted teeth. "You're a lawyer. I'm a doctor. I don't try your cases and you shouldn't make my medical decisions for me."

"I saved your life," Stacy said.

Of course. She was the hero, if only in her own mind. "Forgive me if I don't fall at your feet and shower you with gratitude."

"All right," Stacy said, an edge to her voice. "I'm selfish. I wanted to have you around for a long time. Is that so terrible?"

"You wanted to have me around?" House repeated, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't think with his leg like this. He needed something for the pain. Maybe he could convince them to give him a little extra morphine. Or extra something. "You have no idea what you've done."

Stacy looked pinched as she stood up. Clearly she was unwilling to have this conversation now. It was easy for her; she could just stand up and walk away. House might not be able to stand up. Christ, what if he couldn't walk? Did Stacy have any idea—but he didn't finish the question in his mind because no, of course she didn't. It wasn't her leg. It wasn't her life.

"I'll come back later," she said.

"Come back if you want," House said, "but what makes you think it'll be any better then?"

She had no answer. "Selfless" people like her never did.


	3. The Beginning part 2

They made love in the shower after Stacy mentioned that she didn't want to get sand or sunscreen in intimate areas. House didn't mind. There were lots of fun things to do in the shower, and you had soap and shampoo to use as props to spice things up a little.

After the shower, they lay together in bed. The windows of the beach house were enormous and didn't have any curtains, so they had to wear bathrobes in case some curious beachgoer decided to see what was going on in the rental places. With their luck, it would probably be some old guy in Bermuda shorts waving around a metal detector.

"What are you thinking?" Stacy asked, snuggling close to House.

House hated that question, mostly because he was never thinking of anything life-changing or important in situations when the question could be asked. And if you said you were thinking about an old guy with a metal detector peeping through your bedroom window—well, unromantic was one word for it.

"Nothing much," House said, deciding to be vague. He turned onto his side so he could look at her. "How about you?"

"I was thinking we should do this more often," Stacy said.

"Because between a doctor and a lawyer, we have so much free time," House said.

Stacy smiled. "I could bill fewer hours."

"Yeah, the partners at your firm would love that," House said.

"They're flexible," Stacy said.

House raised his eyebrows. "You like it too much to take fewer hours." Law for her was like medicine for him; it was an intellectual exercise. It was something interesting to think about during the day.

"I could be motivated into a lighter workload," Stacy said.

House knew she wanted him to ask what could motivate her to do such a thing, but he suspected he already knew. "I've been thinking maybe we could adopt. Not babies, because that's overdone. I was thinking of adopting a nineteen-year-old girl with big boobs—maybe someone who was up for Miss America, because gosh darn it, she deserved that scholarship."

"I'm sure her mind is why you're drooling on the pillow," Stacy said.

"Nothing sexier than a brain in a swimsuit," House said.

"Hard to find swimsuits that fit the brain these days," Stacy said.

That was a big reason House had gotten to like Stacy in the first place; she was always willing to engage with him verbally. Most people either didn't understand his sense of humor or didn't know what to say in response to his sardonic comments. Stacy was quick; Stacy was smart. And he loved the way her brain looked in a swimsuit.

"I was thinking we could ditch Wilson and Sara tonight," House said, "and I could make dinner."

Stacy nodded, but her forehead wrinkled, and she looked sad.

"Hey," House said, "what's the matter?"

Stacy shook her head. "After something this good, it's going to be hard to go back to normal life."

"This isn't _Brief Encounter_," House said. "We're sharing an apartment."

"I know," Stacy said, "but I'm always running in and out, and so are you. This week's been amazing, and I've spent real time with you." She played with the front of his bathrobe. "You're like a drug. I don't know if I can lower the dosage safely."

"Nobody says you have to," House said. "We'll make time, Stacy. We always do."

Stacy nodded. Then she laughed. "Look at me…I'm getting nostalgic about this vacation and it's not even over yet."

House didn't respond; he didn't think she particularly wanted a response. Instead, he took her in his arms, and they held each other close for a while.


	4. The End part 2

"Is it always going to be like this?" Stacy asked.

House looked up from the book he was reading. "Like what?"

"We've been sitting here for almost two hours and you haven't spoken to me," Stacy said.

House closed the book, heaving an exasperated sigh so she would know how little he wanted to have this conversation. "Let me guess. I hurt your feelings."

Stacy looked at him, amazed. "You know, if you'd said that a few years ago, you would've at least tried to sound like you cared."

"A lot's happened since then," House said. "Can I get back to my book now?"

"No," Stacy said. "We need to talk about this, Greg. How long are you going to give me the silent treatment? Because if it's two weeks, I can deal with that, but if it's the rest of my life, I need to know so I don't keep coming to you for something that's never going to be there."

"I'm here," House said. "That used to be enough."

"Your body's here," Stacy said.

"Well, most of it," House said. "There were a few minor alterations there, but nothing to write home about. I barely even notice the difference." He leaned on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, knocking his cane to the floor.

"Subtle," Stacy said. "Really subtle."

"Glad you liked it," House said. "I've been working on it all afternoon."

"You know what?" Stacy said. "If you're still mad at me, Greg, tell me. Yell at me. Scream. I don't care. But then you'll have gotten it out of your system and we can go back to being like we were."

"Some of us will never be like we were," House said, his tone sharp. Stacy might be able to get it out of her system; she was the observer, not the injured party. It was easy enough for her to forgive herself. But every time House couldn't bend his leg, every time he tried to take a step and there was pain, every time he had to pick up that goddamned cane because he couldn't walk without it, he was reminded of what happened and who did this to him. Get it out of his system? Christ, she was oblivious.

And yet—and yet—with all of that weighing against her, he still loved her. It was stupid and unhealthy and he knew it, but that didn't change how he felt. He wanted things to be like the old days too. He wanted to be able to make love standing up in a shower without having to worry about how to balance or whether or not he would fall down. But he had loved her once, and she had crippled him. He knew better than to trust her with anything now. After trust came pain.

"I realize you've rationalized this whole thing," House said, "but think about something. How would you have felt if you'd told them to remove the muscle and I'd died on the operating table? Or would you have explained that away too?"

"How can you say that?" Stacy asked. It was taking all the self-control she'd learned over her years as a lawyer to keep her demeanor calm; House had learned to see the cracks in the façade over the years. "You know I would've felt terrible."

"Well, as terrible as you would've felt if I'd died because of what you did," House said, his voice calm, "that's as terrible as I want you to feel right now."

Stacy flinched, and most of the color drained from her face.

"Okay," House said. "Now that we've talked, I'm gonna get back to my book." He picked it back up.

"Do you want to break this off?" Stacy asked, a tremor in her voice. "Is that really what you want?"

Once House would've been quick to comfort her. No, that wasn't what he wanted. That was never what he wanted. Now, he simply shrugged.

Stacy swallowed hard, trying to keep her face from crumpling into tears. "Okay. I'll have my stuff out of here by tomorrow afternoon."

No, said some inner voice in House. Don't you let her go. It isn't supposed to be like this.

House opened his book and found the paragraph he'd been reading last. "Good."


	5. The Beginning part 3

"A man who's a doctor and a good cook," Stacy said, putting down her fork. "What lottery did I win?"

"That wasn't a lottery. That was punishment," House said.

"You as punishment," Stacy said. "I find that hard to believe."

"Oh, wait. I'm scheduled to reveal my diabolical side any day now," House said, checking the date on his watch.

Stacy laughed. "Right." Her expression sobered. "Seriously, thank you for dinner. It was great."

House shrugged; he didn't like compliments particularly. He found it difficult to judge their sincerity. So many people thanked you for things that were stupid.

Stacy stared at her wine glass thoughtfully. "Where do you think we'll be in ten years?"

House reached out his hand. "Give me your palm."

Stacy did. "I didn't know you read palms."

"Oh yeah," House said. "They teach you that the second year of med school."

"I should've been a doctor," Stacy said. "What do you see?"

House pretended to concentrate on Stacy's hand. "Well…you're going to make partner in…two or three years. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I like this future so far," Stacy said. "Go on."

"You're going to argue a case before the Supreme Court," House said. "Or maybe two."

"What about you?" Stacy asked.

"This is your hand," House said, "not mine."

"You must be in there somewhere," Stacy said.

House looked at her palm for a minute, then pointed to the middle segment of Stacy's pinkie finger. "Oh yeah. That's me."

Stacy smiled. "What are you doing all the way over there?"

"Apparently I've started a family practice so I have flexible hours and can take care of the kids," House said.

"Kids?" Stacy said.

"Well, that's what we call Miss Kentucky and Miss Idaho," House said.

Stacy pulled her hand away from House and swatted him on the shoulder. "Seriously, Greg. What do you think you'll be doing in ten years?"

"Honestly?" House said. "I can't picture my life in the future being too different from what it is now."

"That sounds good to me," Stacy said. She raised her wine glass. "To the future."

House nodded, raising his glass and clinking it against Stacy's. "The future."

THE END


End file.
